


Lie Low at Lupin's

by emAeye



Series: Snapshots [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, otp: lucky sirimus remrius wolf star, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-23
Updated: 2012-07-28
Packaged: 2017-11-10 13:15:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/466710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emAeye/pseuds/emAeye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lie Low at Lupin's subsection is a dedication to my dear Katie [anythingtoasted.tumblr.com] who very adamantly requested this. </p><p>All takes place the summer between PoA and GoF.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The introductory post of a "Lie Low at Lupin's" sub-series, dedicated to my dearest Katie [anythingtoasted.tumblr.com] 
> 
> Lupin pulls out his memento box, scrolls through some quick memories, and re-reads a letter from Dumbledore stating that Sirius is coming to stay with him.
> 
> \---  
> This is 1 of however many I end up writing about LLaL

## Part Six - 1

### Lie Low at Lupin's - 1: Box

\--

The teapot screeched, or perhaps it was Kreacher, or maybe even Mrs. Black's portrait upstairs. Remus paid no mind that the awful howling didn't stop once he had taken the kettle off the burner. Quite properly he had organized a tea-tray, and now retired to the dining room. It felt strange to be out of Sirius' room, and Remus realized he hadn't any idea how long he'd been up there. Time seemed endless in this place, and that was all right with him. He had a lot of memories to sort though. 

The only reason he'd been pulled from his sad reverie upstairs was that he had received a letter; an owl bashed into the window several times before Remus thought to even let it in. The note had been from Dumbledore, probably offering condolences or words of wisdom, but Remus didn't have it in him to open it yet. He wasn't ready for that finalization.

Throughout the years Albus Dumbledore had, for whatever reason, taken much of an interest in the life of Remus J. Lupin. Ever since he had left Hogwarts as a student, Dumbledore had kept in contact on a personal level. Sometimes it was with good news, or to comment on weather, or chat about quidditch teams. At times Remus had lived for these letters, as he had suffered a very lonely life after Sirius was taken to Azkaban. In fact, Dumbledore had broken that news to him as well, but Remus didn't want to relive that yet either.

No, he wanted to relive the good letter. 

 

He had received an owl from Dumbledore a few days after leaving Hogwarts as a teacher, and hadn't any idea of what to do with it as surely he couldn't throw it out after reading. It meant something. He'd put the note in his bedside table. And then he'd put it on top of the fridge. And then finally he'd tucked it away in a very small box of things he cherished, no bigger than his palm and no thicker than a deck of cards, where it would go unseen for years until he had occasion to pull it out and look over his life again. 

He had that occasion now, only a very few years later, so Remus Lupin took that small box from his coat as he sat at the dining table in 12 Grimmauld Place. He untied the worn string about it, slid open the lid, and one by one pulled out its precious contents. There was much more in the little box than could be first assumed; it had been a present from Sirius many, many years ago.

_“Now you can get rid of that ridiculous shoebox.”_

 

Some items had been taken out over time, some never added to begin with, but these things, these mementos, were what meant most to Remus in his life. He could remember other things on his own, but these... these he needed to touch and see to experience their joys, or aches, again. Remus was sentimental; there was no other way about it.

Like a checklist he went over the items in his head once they were all laid out in front of him.

It contained, from oldest to newest:

— Hogwarts Acceptance Letter  
(complete with eleven-year-old, smudged, chocolate fingerprints)

— Gold Oval Locket  
(His grandmother’s, which Remus had always intended to put pictures in, but never had)

— Letter from His Mother and Father, Received After His First Full Moon at Hogwarts  
( _We miss you, we love you, you can come home at any time,_ etc. etc.)

— A Very Worn Braided Leather Bracelet Which He Never Wore  
(Given to him by Hufflepuff Tammy Baker during second year, in passing and with no conversation or eye-contact. They had been neighbors as children, before Remus was inflicted with lycanthropy and his family moved to the country without warning. He and Tammy never spoke, nor did he run into her again, but he assumed the bracelet had been meant for his five-year-old self as it was rather small)

— Chocolate Frog Card  
(Newt Scamander, given as a joke from James, with _“Friend of yours?”_ written on the back very untidily)

— Picture of The Marauders During a 6th Year Party  
(Halloween. Rather Drunk Sirius dressed as a knight, sloppily kissing Tipsy Remus on the side of his face, whom was forced to dress as a princess while Very Drunk Peter and Incredibly Drunk James -- also forced into princess costumes when the lot of them doubted Sirius’ ability to get a kiss from McGonagall _[On the cheek counts, lads! Oh what merry maidens you shall make!]_ \-- pulled faces for the camera) 

— Ticket Stub  
(A muggle punk band that Sirius enjoyed purely for the mosh-pits, though Remus recalled Sirius singing a lovely _[really very lovely indeed]_ rendition of _Should I Stay Or Should I Go_ while ragingly drunk and bleeding from the mouth after picking a fight with a very large man and not having the sense to use his wand. Remus had to apparate the both of them home from the safety of a darkened alley and spent the rest of the night listening to Sirius sing/cry at the top of his lungs and make an ass of himself in the living room without any encouragement at all. It was a fond memory) 

— Picture of James, Lily, and baby Harry  
(Written on the back, in Lily’s neat cursive, _“You and Sirius ought to visit soon. Harry’s getting bigger every hour. All my love, Lily xoxo_ ) 

— Letter from Peter Pettigrew Two Weeks Before Halloween 1981  
( _"Where are you? Let’s get drinks soon?"_ Remus had never sent a response) 

— Letter from Dumbledore  
(Complete with tea-stains and set aside)

— A Novelty Switch-Blade Comb that Sirius Nicked from a Muggle Teenager  
(The final item in the box, and perhaps most treasured)

Remus flicked the comb open, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards in what could be a smirk or could be pain. For a moment he just held the comb, noting the few strands of dark hair tangled in the teeth, before closing it gingerly and setting it next to Dumbledore's letter. Another moment passed as Remus just laid his hand upon the folded parchment of the letter, staring at it wearily as if he were resting his hand upon a beast. 

In some sense it was a beast. It rumbled low and full, and if he wasn't careful Remus could get bitten and develop new wounds to add to the old ones that still hadn't healed after all this time and quite possibly also make the newer ones rip open and bleed anew. 

It was that kind of letter. 

The stained parchment had rung in a new life for Remus, one where he wasn't sequestered in solitude, one where he was useful and necessary, one where he wasn't allowed to spend quiet nights alone, feeling sorry for himself and not having the good sense to start drinking to dull the pain.

That new life had been... difficult, for a little while, but ultimately more rewarding than Remus could ever have imagined it would be. Living with Sirius Black had always had its drawbacks and its perks, but for some reason that time, that summer alone together with nothing to concern themselves with but each other (mostly, at least), had been the breath of air that Remus needed. Otherwise, probably, he would have wasted the rest of his life away in that shitty little cottage, and worked that shitty muggle job, and never have remembered what it was like to be... 

Remus didn't know. He simply didn't have the words.

Just, what it was like to _be_.  
And he wanted to feel that again.  
He _needed_ to feel that again.

So with a quick breath as to get up his nerve, Remus hurriedly unfolded the letter and as he read he was no longer present at 12 Grimmauld Place. No, he was transported back to his dingy little cottage home, where the rough wooden table was slightly off kilter and the china was all chipped, and the tea wasn't very good at all.

 

_  
Remus,_

_As you are aware, Sirius has been freed, by thanks of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. You might send to them a fruit basket. What you are unaware of is that he will arrive to you in three days, and whether or not he will be accompanied by a hippogriff is up to Sirius himself. If you must care for it, I am assured that Buckbeak favors live ferrets, and that Sirius will eat any dead mammal you provide him with. Not fond of fried tomatoes, if I do recall correctly the time he threw them across the tables and incited the largest food fight I had ever seen. Impressive for a thirteen-year-old, but I still refuse to wear pure white ever again._

_On to business._

_I must warn you that it is not by luck that Sirius has been returned to us, but rather by a composition of Black's own will and some form of fate. We have all wronged him, and this must be kept in mind. Betrayal, as you know, is not something easily forgiven, and while I do not presume to know the thoughts that lurk in Sirius' mind, I know that we have all, in our own way, betrayed him._

_I admit that I personally did not do all I could have to prevent Sirius from going to Azkaban, or press for a more thorough investigation. At the time, I do not believe anyone in The Order had true doubts as to Sirius' guilt, and for that we have all wronged him. Do tell him that I am deeply apologetic._

_I do not know if you recall the conversation we had that morning or not. It still stands to reason that despite whatever actions Sirius takes, it is for your own good to not let the past tarnish what can be whole once more. You didn't say in so many words then what Sirius meant to you, but trust when I say that I know he was the light of your dark life. I have a feeling you were rather that to him, as well._

_It is a shame, I must say, when two fine young gentlemen are thrown into such turmoil. But you have done good in your life, Remus, and you have never disappointed me. Though during your time as a Prefect I had wished you would have exercised a little more control over your friends. Admittedly, it was amusing when all of the sixth floor portraits had large mustaches drawn on them --though I do not think the portrait of Artemisia Lupkin was very pleased._

 

_Take care of him, Remus._

_Fondly,_  
 _Albus_

 

_PS: I have enclosed your severance pay of 198 galleons, 10 sickles, and 10 knuts._


	2. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus freaks out a little, Sirius finally arrives, the tea is absolute rubbish. 
> 
> \---  
> This is 2 of however many I end up writing about LLaL

## Part Six - 2

### Lie Low at Lupin's - 2: Arrival

\--

“Son of a — mother f— oh!” Remus spilled tea all over himself, the letter, and the table. It scalded a fair bit as he’d only just poured it, and he couldn’t quite choose which swear was most appropriate so he had to settle for a mix-match of several. Of course the mix-match got far too befuddled and he’d ended up not cursing at all, which was quite the disappointment.

“Bloody hell,” Of course, hell wasn’t really a proper swear, but as Remus began to sop up the mess with an old dish-towel he still felt the need to express his severe displeasure. He could have rather easily used his wand to clean the tea and broken cup, but Remus had fallen into quite the muggle lifestyle over the last several years.

Before going to Hogwarts as a professor, Remus had moved himself out to a cottage a fair ways away from any wizarding village, smack dab in the middle of a field and about 80 kilometers from the nearest town. In that town, Halsborough, he had taken a muggle job and learned just how inconvenient it was to not use magic when things went awry. But he’d gotten used to it, it wasn’t so awful now. 

Even re-adjusting once he’d gotten back from Hogwarts was easy, actually. And though Remus couldn’t say he was over the moon about living this way, it suited him rather well. The job he held was at a bookstore, and the old owner had been very glad for Remus’ return.

_“Now the shop’s gonna be in right order again, eh Remus? We’ve got one of those fancy cappuccino machines last month! Just ain’t got it set up yet… yer the one for that, aren’t ya, lad?”_

Bram Haggleton was pushing 80, had quite the curved spine, a crooked nose that bespoke of a very tormented childhood, and eyes that were a twinkling blue hidden beneath thick-lens spectacles. Remus rather liked him.

For whatever reason, Mr. Haggleton had not hired another employee over the year Remus had been gone, and he was given his old job back with no hassle whatsoever. Mr. Haggleton never asked why Remus needed every full moon off, though he did always show some amount of concern whenever Remus seemed to be ill. The good thing was that Mr. Haggleton’s memory wasn’t terribly sharp (when Remus had first started working there it had taken an entire month for Haggleton to remember his name —even after pinning a shoddy, handwritten name-badge to him), and so Remus often had no trouble explaining things away with the same excuse every month.

It was a slow going job, but he got to read a lot of books, and lately drink a lot of fancy coffees. He’d managed to put the cappuccino machine together with his bare hands, and rather enjoyed the fruits of his labor —even if very few other people did. Bram’s Books was a quaint, somewhat dusty, and terribly over-stocked shop; books lined the shelves, the floor, the front desk, the back room, and the shop windows very haphazardly. To make matters worse, a rather old and precarious gold-lettered sign hung above the entrance, and Remus had assumed that sign was half the reason people didn’t enter —at any moment it looked like it might fall and crush whoever was unlucky enough to be beneath it.

But, again, it all suited Remus.  
A quiet job, a quiet home, a quiet life.  
Quiet, quiet, quiet.

That was all going to change now.

As the realization re-hit him, Remus very nearly dropped the pieces of tea-cup he had just managed to pick up. “Son of bitch mother fucker,” He whispered, getting to his feet, disposing of the teacup in the bin, and just staring at the letter on the table from across the kitchen.

For several minutes Remus just awkwardly stood there, not sure what to do with himself at all. Sirius was coming. Sirius was coming back. His heart thrummed and his stomach churned like that of an anxious teenager awaiting a big date. What was he supposed to do with Sirius? Their reunion at Hogwarts had been short-lived and miraculous, and when Remus left he had been sure that he’d never see Sirius again. At least, not so soon. Three days wasn’t nearly a long enough time to prepare for the coming of Sirius Black.

 

But the three days came and went. Sirius arrived just after sundown, sans hippogriff.

 

“This tea’s pretty rubbish, Remus,” Sirius sat across him at the round kitchen table, stirring his tea by circling his finger about the air, moving the spoon with hardly any trouble. Remus was sure that Sirius was only showing off by doing this, proving that he hadn’t completely wasted away in Azkaban. For some reason that and the comment made Remus grin. Same old Sirius. 

“I’m sorry, _your highness_ ,” Remus’ tone was casually playful, “But you’re the one that wanted whatever I had lying about.”

“Well I figured a man of your stature,” Sirius’ was holding back a grin as he gestured about the poor kitchen, “Would most surely have finer teas than—” He paused and lifted up his cup, looking into it with a scrunched nose, “Actually I think this might just be some tree leaves. Is that bark?”  
Sirius glanced over the cup at Remus, whom was smiling softly, and broke into a large grin. Remus, unable to help himself, began to laugh and shook his head.

“I’ve been found out,” He threw up his hands in a vaguely dramatic gesture before getting up and gathering their near-empty cups to wash in the sink, “Tomorrow I’ll go and get something proper for you.”

“Is there anywhere _to_ get something proper?” Sirius asked idly, finally taking in his surroundings fully. The kitchen was small and painted a dingy shade of yellow, the wooden table was unfinished and splintery, and the tiles were an awful hue of pea green —where they still had patches of color, at least.

“Mm,” Remus nodded wiping his hands off with a dish towel and giving a sigh of contentment. He had always been rather fond of domestic life, and despite the fact that Sirius was anything but domestic, they had made it work. For a while, at least. “There’s a town a ways away, we’ll have to take the car. I work out there, sometimes.”

“Work?” Sirius’ idle tone suddenly beamed with interest and he arose from the table to wander to the living area. It wasn’t much to look at either. An old couch, a very respectably worn armchair, a television set that surely was from the ’70s, and dulled wooden flooring. It was also painted a dingy yellow, and plaster marks that hadn’t been sanded down enough clearly covered scratch marks and holes in the walls. The curtains, at least, seemed rather heavy and newer than anything else in the place.

“Yes, work,” Remus followed the other out, crossed his arms over his chest and perched himself on the back of the couch, “Turns out muggle life rather suits me, you know. No one’s so…” he gestured with one hand, rolling his wrist as if to prompt the correct word to roll off his tongue.

“So much of an asshole?” Sirius finished, smirking as he spun about to face Remus. Sirius’ face was gaunt and sunken, though he looked a little better than he had when Remus had first seen him in the shack. His hair had been cut (poorly) and his clothes (stolen and dirty) seemed to hang off of him a little less than the prison uniform had. But his grey eyes were alight with life. So Remus focused on them.

“I was going to say _biased_ , but sure,” For a long moment the two just looked at each other, before Sirius approached closer and Remus got to his feet and dropped his arms to his sides. His breath hitched a bit, and he tensed at their sudden proximity. This was bound to have happened sooner or later.

Something about Sirius always made Remus just a little nervous whenever they got this close. It had been happening ever since school, and while a part of Remus wished it didn’t, the other parts delighted in it thoroughly. There was never any telling what would happen when Sirius got close this way, got quiet this way. Forever unpredictable, ultimately frustrating, and always, always exciting.

“You’ll cut my hair, won’t you? And make me shave?” Sirius asked, voice low, soft, as if this were a tender moment. And maybe it was.

“Of course,” Remus’ voice just as much of a whisper, “Might even make you eat another round of roast before…”

“Before what?”

“Before we go to bed.”

“Ah.”

Silence fell, neither man quite searching for what to say, and neither feeling the need to really do as such as they looked over each other. Sirius made the first move, wrapping his arms about Remus, pulling him close, holding there until Remus returned the embrace tightly. Remus could swear he felt their heart beating again; that shared heart they’d forced their two broken ones into so many years ago. It kicked to life again, the flame bursting just that bit brighter where it had previously dulled to flicker.

But the moment was lost as quickly as it had come along, for neither was going to blubber on about missing the other, about how awful things had been, how terrible it had been to be apart for so long. They both felt it though, that sudden electricity pumping something bloodier than blood through their veins again. It was still there.  
“Come on then,” Sirius insisted, brushing past Remus and starting towards the back to the bathroom, “Clean me up.”

Remus waited a few moments before following along, attempting to calm himself, and when he arrived the water was already drawn and Sirius was in the middle of undressing himself. Remus just watched him from the doorway, eyes full and sad over what had become of the great Sirius Black. Sirius’ spine showed through his skin when he stooped; his hip and rib bones jutted outwards when he stretched his arms above his head. His skin was far too pale for what it should have been, and his hair was frizzed and matted. It was a horrifying sight to really take in and Remus had to look away to compose himself.

“C’mon now,” Sirius slipped into the warm water and gave a long, contented sigh, “Make bubbles for me, would you? I do love a bubble bath.” By the way he eyed Remus it was clear that Sirius wasn’t going to allow any comments on his appearance, or his hardships, or anything that might possibly resemble how _strange_ this all was. For it was all very strange. For the both of them.

Remus rolled his eyes, but took up his wand and with a whispered incantation bubbles began frothing from the end and into the bath as he poised the tip over the water. He wanted to say something important, something meaningful, but he didn’t know what, and maybe Sirius had the right idea. If they could just pretend it was any normal night for them, maybe it would be.

“I rather like that,” Sirius grinned, cupping up some bubbles in his hand and blowing them at Remus with a chuckle, “I feel like a king, you know. Now, Squire, no… _Pleb_ , hand me a sponge, would you? This bath of yours is ridiculously under accommodating.” Sirius began to bounce his hands atop the water, making little splashes as he sat up straight and high, chest puffed out arrogantly.

Remus sighed heavily, making a show of getting out a wash cloth and new bar of soap from the small cupboard, handing them over with a groan, “You aren’t seriously going to start calling me a pleb, are you?” Not that Remus was truly upset, but it was part of their game, always had been. Sirius would tease him and Remus would get in a huff, and then they would laugh and make up and Sirius would promise to stop being such an ass (though never actually did stop).

“No,” Sirius smirked, taking the items with glee, “I rather think you’re much more of a nursemaid, hm?” It was like they were twenty-somethings again, living in a shitty flat together, Sirius making jokes, Remus putting up with them. And secretly Remus was delighted by this. They had been apart for so long, and there was a lot that had changed for each of them, but there was still _this_. There was still _them_.

“I’ll make you sleep in the garden if you’re not careful,” But Remus rolled up his sleeves and got to his knees, starting in on Sirius’ hair with vigor. He was determined to get the mats out, to make it gleam and bounce like it used to. They fell silent for a long while, Sirius scrubbing himself, Remus working at his hair as best he could. 

Both were glad for the silence, glad for something to concentrate on that didn’t involve what to say or how to act.  
They were grown men now, but they had left each other as youthful ones, and neither was really sure how to balance that. Perhaps they would have to learn each other all over again, but something told Remus that wasn’t quite the case. No, Remus wouldn’t have to re-learn anything about Sirius, he would just have to add to the database.

Sometimes he pretended that Sirius took up this big storage locker in his brain, filled with boxes upon boxes of folders of information. In one set of boxes were things that Sirius liked, in another the things that Sirius loved, and quite a few in the things that Sirius disliked. In a few others the things that Sirius said to show his affection; two whole boxes were devoted to things that Sirius said instead of _I miss you_ or _I love you_ or _I need you_. There were lots and lots of boxes, and Remus kept them all tidy and dusted and cared for so that at a moment’s notice he could find what he was looking for and react accordingly.

It took nearly two hours, but finally Sirius was ready to get out of the bath. They’d changed the water twice, once after Sirius was clean and shaved, and a second time when he just wanted to soak in the warmth for a while. Remus had stayed sat on the floor the entire time, only getting up to get them cigarettes, and put on a record. Otherwise they just sat, and smoked, and quietly enjoyed being near one another again.

“I can’t believe you kept my records,” Sirius murmured as he dressed in some of Remus’ simple pyjamas, which were a little too big on his sunken frame, “I’d thought for sure everything would be gone.”

“Yeah, well,” Remus shrugged faintly and began to tie back Sirius’ hair for him, if only because he wanted to run his fingers through it. It was clean and soft again, the mats cut out, the frizz taken away, “Half of them were mine, anyway.”

“I don’t think The Clash was ever yours,” Sirius grinned and turned about as a new song came on. He placed his hands upon Remus’ chest and pushed him from the bathroom in a rather playful way, singing, “Darling you got to let me go, should I stay or should I go?”

“Oh, god, Sirius, no, please,” Remus groaned and rolled his eyes as he was back-peddled into the living room.

“It’s always tease, tease, tease,” Sirius sang low, his grin bright, his eyes alight with that fire that Remus had so, so missed. This was the Sirius that had left him. This was the Sirius that used to strut around their apartment in nothing but his briefs and play air-guitar with the broom. This was the Sirius that Remus had remembered and wanted and _needed_ for thirteen years.

So they danced like rowdy young men, until the record was scratching at the end, until they were laughing so hard they couldn’t breathe and had to lie upon the floor. Sirius orchestrated to the air, still humming as he lay on his back, eyes closed, mouth open with a smile.

Remus sat himself up slowly, giving a contented sigh as he looked the other over. “C’mon then, Padfoot, old men like us shouldn’t be up so late,” He smirked as Sirius’ face scrunched in displeasure, but the dark-haired man sat up as well.

“Go on,” Sirius murmured, getting to his feet and helping Remus up as well, “I want to stay up a bit, see what’s on the telly, if you don’t mind.”  
Remus was a little displeased with this, could tell that something wasn’t quite right. There was nothing in the database about this, about Sirius not wanting to sleep just to watch television alone. But Remus wasn’t going to put up a fuss, not tonight. They had plenty of time to sort things out. Tonight it was just good to be together again.

“No, it’s fine,” Remus assured softly with a nod, “I’ll just-… I’ll be in the room, then. I’m sure you can find your way around the kitchen if you get hungry.” He offered a faint smile, and with just a moment of hesitation a kiss was placed to Sirius’ cheek before Remus headed towards his bedroom silently, suddenly very aware of how awkward this all felt.

Saying goodnight should never have felt this strange, and Remus wasn’t sure how to remedy it. It seemed obvious that Sirius wanted to be alone now, and Remus just had to accept that Sirius was still… adjusting. He’d been alone in Azkaban for thirteen years, of course he wasn’t ready for domestic life so soon. It would take time. But still, Remus hurt a little, knowing he’d have to sleep alone tonight.

“Remus?”

“Yeah Sirius?” Remus’ hand on the doorknob, he turned his head to look down the hall at the other. Sirius looked better than he had before the bath. Even fixing his hair had helped bring back some of that youthful shine to him; the shave had helped mightily as well. His face didn’t seem so sunken, nor his body so frail.

“That tea really was rubbish.”

A pause as Remus opened the door to his room, a smile twitching at his mouth as he searched his mental database to make a new entry.  
Remus started into his room, “Yeah, it was.”

Filed as: 

_I’ve missed you, Remus._

_I’ve missed you too, Sirius Black._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've just figured out how chapters work, so, self-high-five to me

**Author's Note:**

> news updates, full entry posts, and questions/comments can be found/made at maraudersnapshots.tumblr.com
> 
> Tumblr is more likely to have new entries sooner.


End file.
